


WOY-tober Day 2

by Clueingforlooks221B



Series: WOY-tober Challenge 2016 [3]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Death Glare - Freeform, Deathglare, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but at the end hinted romance, but they don't act on it, this is more friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8192084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clueingforlooks221B/pseuds/Clueingforlooks221B
Summary: Based on the WOY-tober challenge day two by @dontgetusedtoit on tumblr. Hater, noticing Peepers stress as of lately, brainstorms ways to make him back to normal again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like it!

An eerie tone lurks, staining itself in the atmosphere of their meetings. Macabre coats itself on the inside of their lids, causing their pupils to shrink and hearts to falter. 

Hater has noticed that Peepers has been acting different lately.

Everyone has.

Sure the watchdogs have always wished he would bicker less, but they didn't want it to happen like this. 

An emotion no one can name itches along their spines the whole time. It sits on the tips of their lids, tap dancing mockingly throughout the entire encounter of each meeting. It doesn't seize until their commander leaves the room. Once he does the impression streams out of their lungs, the tingles parting with the heavy cloud of negative air. No matter how hard they think or discuss these feelings, they can’t name the sensation. 

Regardless, he’s been whist. His words never drop or heighten octaves. They scrape up his throat, emanating out so flat. 

His lids are constantly motionless, stuck in the same position sprawled across half his face. His cherry pupil is only a half circle now, concealed by his overcast lids. Lines are etched under his lower lid, making them droopier. They cast shadows, drenching his lower lid and neck in obsidian. His noir uniform contributes to his much darker and duller appearance. 

He’s veins are hollow, struggling to haul his thinning frigid blood through his crouched shell.

Honestly, even Hater is concerned about him. Everyone is. 

Recently his eye has started twitching as his dancing pupil skips rapidly around his burgeoning paperwork. During the last meeting Hater counted Peepers eye doing so every twenty seconds. 

When Hater walks past Peepers bedroom he can hear him talking to himself. While this is normally typically, they aren't the soft murmurs that one used to have to pay attention to to hear. The delicate words are now screams that echo in his small room. They bounce off his walls, barricading and withdrawing him from everyone else more. He’s up a lot later than he used to stay up, and his room is contaminated with figurines of everyone, blue prints, and coffee cups. 

One morning he even slept in, which in his whole career he has never done. Hater immediately knew since he wasn't awoken by the usual pliant handprints on his shoulders and the cushioned callings of his title by his nasally companion. His whole day had been thrown off, and longing squatted in his ribs refusing to leave. Honestly he missed it, never realizing how bearable waking up to that was. The sudden dawning weak truth made him pissed, and he blamed it all on Peepers. He galumphed down to his commanders bedroom, ready to screech at him and let all his wilted emotions free from his conscience, but the all to familiar wailing made him halt. Outside the cracked open bedroom door Peepers arms were wrapped around his head, trembling and chocking on the crisp air. He looked so lost, and Hater’s fury dimmed as sorrow flooded in. He left him, deciding to let him be. Part of him wanted to go in, but what could he have done? 

It’s been days and the image is still plastered in Hater’s mind. He doesn't think it will ever leave, and each time it flickers across his mind its too vivid and makes his guts wrench, and not in the good or fun way. 

The trash bins have been flooded with broken figurines of Dominator. Every now and then Hater will find the remains of him or Peepers in there, or a watchdog. 

Hater doesn't know how Peepers gets them all replaced so fast. The poor watchdog that’s in charge of that department. Oh well, not his problem. 

Hater knows Peepers main source of stress is Dominator. She’s been destroying the whole galaxy, and every attempt of someone to stop her has failed. Hater hated to admit this but even Wander was failing, and if Wander is failing then who else was left? Peepers has been failing to, and has finally caved into insanity, buried deep in some crisis. Hater hopes that Peepers will just snap himself out of it, but he only seems to be dwindling further into it with each passing day. 

Last month Peepers had a lot of pent up anger, exploding on anyone who even looked at him. 

But now it’s a mute creepiness that Hater has never seen Peepers, or really anyone, portray and he hates it. 

He hates it even more now that it’s evident that the problem isn't going to be fixed without some intervention. Helping goes against everything Hater is! It’s such a… Wander-y thing to do. The thought makes him gag out loud. But Peepers is important to him, so… he guesses that he’s just going to have to make this sacrifice for him. 

But what to do?   
They're still continuing to have their annual meetings, but they're pointless. Oh yeah sure they normally are, but now they are even more so since Peepers isn't contributing anything. He’s letting the watchdogs practice public speaking. While the watchdogs are loving this, they can all still tell that something is getting to their commander. It was nice at first for them, but now they're all starting to feel out of place and sad. 

But each watchdog that gets up to speak is still energetic to get their chance in the spotlight. 

As the meeting drags along, Hater stares at Peepers pondering. His head is hanging down as he continues to glance at all the papers spread out in front of him. He rubs his temples and every now and then stops to flip a page over. It’s the usual scene, except today he’s shaking.   The watchdogs near him look at him in concern. Since Peepers is always the one to arrive first, the last of the watchdogs that trickled in got stuck besides him since the trembling put them even more on edge around him. The watchdogs around him muttered their suspicions. Anger? Anxiety? Is he crying? For some time Hater believed it was the later, until he caught sign of Peepers face. The only ounce of emotion there was stress and exhaustion. Maybe he hasn't ate, or is drinking too much coffee. 

His jaw is held in a firm frown as he crosses his arms, world blurring around him as he is drawn into deeper apprehensions of how to fix Peepers. He lays back completely in his large chair, zoning out the peppy watchdog who is beginning to speak. 

He could send Peepers on a mandatory vacation. But where to? More and more planets were breaking apart. What if the one Hater chose Dominator destroyed while Peepers was vacationing on it? Hater shakes that thought away before he can brainstorm places. It’s pointless Peepers would just get mad and refuse. That or he’d probably just sneak his paperwork with him, or spend the whole time brainstorming. Besides, Hater didn't really think Peepers should be left alone right now. 

He is ripped out of his speculations when Terry the watchdog barges into the seat besides him. None of the other watchdogs have been brave enough, given the intense look of concentration and anger sinking basking Hater’s forehead in thick lines that drag his hood and eyes down. The seat spins from the force of Terry plopping into it, knocking roughly into Hater’s chair. 

“Whoops sorry Lord Hater sir!” Hater normally wouldn't have paid attention, but Terry talks so boisterous that it’s impossible to not pay attention to him. Lord Hater growls, but it goes unheard over Terry’s cacophonous exclaim. “Man is it cold in here! Burr!” His body bends forwards, embracing himself as he rubs his hands along the tops of his arms. The noise of gloves on fabric penetrates the air. Hater grinds his teeth at the annoyance, getting close to telling Terry off. 

But then the meaning of Terry’s words filter in. Cold? Hater never pays mind to temperature shifts, given that he’s just a pile of bones.

Hater really takes a gander around the room for the first time, just now noticing how many of the watchdogs arms are crossed. Many are decked out in fall attire, all Hater Empire brand of course. Lighting bolt sweaters, scarves, earmuffs, and knitted gloves. Some are even sporting Lord Hater’s personal favorite, the Lord Hater hoodies with lightning horns attached. 

Duh, Peepers is cold! 

Terry scarping a cup against the table makes Hater’s focus snap back to him. It’s a plastic white cup with a green sleeve on it from one of the popular cafes in the food court. 

“Mmm,” Terry moans in appreciation as he brings the steaming beverage to his eye. Although Hater has been around them for years, he still can’t even begin to understand their anatomy. He never really cared to though, believing for the longest time that they ate batteries. 

With each sip Terry’s trembling subsides. He keeps the hot cocoa in his hands, heat dripping through his gloves and lapping up his arms. “Thank goodness for this nice hot chocolate or else I’d be freezing!” Terry’s lids squint upwards as he continues to drink the beverage. “I just love hot chocolate it makes me so happy!”   Hater’s lips twitch into a smirk. Bingo! 

Not only will hot chocolate warm him, but it’ll also make Peepers happy. It always makes Hater feel better, anyways. Apparently it works on watchdogs too, so that means that it has to work on Peepers! 

————

When the watchdog is finally finished talking, everyone looks to Peepers for guidance. His head remains down, unaware of all the eyes on him. Lids rolling and pupils shifting in silent words, Peepers waxy lens are staring off into blank voids as tangents roll through his mind. Their wide eyes look to Hater next. “Uh, meeting dismissed,” after debating Hater adds the last part, “good work watchdogs.” Their lids gape momentarily, before rolling up in pleased smiles.

They bounce out of the room, all wondering what has been going on lately but at the rare praise not questioning it. 

Hater debates saying something to Peepers who still isn't aware of anything going on, but decides against it. He rushes to the food court, wanting to make Peepers normal again as soon as possible.

————

“Uhh,” Hater leans into the small booth more in the crowded food court, as if about to tell a secret. Although no one knows he’s getting this for Peepers, he still feels shy ordering it. Even pretending it’s for him doesn't help, all his further enthusiasm being wiped away by embarrassment. “Can I get a large hot chocolate?” The barista nods, scrawling the order down on the cup. “Did you want marshmallows on that?”    
Does Peepers like marshmallows? Hater really feels like he should know this stuff… 

“Uh yeah sure.” Hater waves his hand dismissively. Marshmallows end up melting in the drink anyway, so no harm if he doesn't like them.

“Sprinkles? Whip cream? Chocolate drizzle?” Through his visors rim he stares up at Hater. 

The more the merrier, so long as he gets hot chocolate. 

“Yeah sure whatever, can I just get the hot chocolate already?!” Hater drums the tips of his fingers on the wooden counter, anxiousness driving his eyes to glance around. 

“Alright that’ll be $3.95.” The barista types it into the register. 

“You're charging me?!” His jaw hangs open. Does, what’s his name? Hater squints at his name tag. Bobby is printed in prestigious midnight handwriting. Doesn't Bobby know who he is? Bobby lids hide half his face, akin to Peepers, reeking of aloofness. 

“What I get no evil villain discount?” Hater’s teeth slam together, shining in false pleasantries. The watchdog shakes his head, and Hater growls out. “AUGH fine!” He pulls out the money from his back pocket in dramatic slow motions, handing it to the deadpanned barista. 

Lord Hater looms besides the tiny side counter, fury diving into the airwaves around him. The watchdogs around him take a step back. 

Stupid Larry. 

Or was it Edward? 

————

“Hey pal.” Hater softly pokes Peepers in his quivering shoulder. Peepers jolts, jumping a foot out of his seat. 

“Oh I’m sorry, did you need something sir?” His words leak of exhaustion, and at the end of his sentence he lets loose a long deep exhale. 

Hater sets the cup down beside Peepers paper work, suddenly doubting his choice of beverage. Maybe coffee would have been better? Then again did Peepers really need to be awake right now, when was the last time he slept? 

“I got this hot cocoa and decided that I didn’t want it anymore,” Hater states as Peepers eyes open wider than Hater has seen them in weeks, but his lids still poke out and dim his features. “I totally didn’t get this for you or anything stupid like that.” Hater adds, and Peepers lids disappear for the first time in a month. 

Then he smiles, and Hater is the one with wide eyes. “Wow thank you sir!” Peepers sips out of the cup that is almost the size of his face, and already his shaking has gone down. 

Hater nods, going to walk away, but then he thinks twice. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, inwardly fighting with himself. Peepers notices. “Was there something else you wanted, sir?” Peepers prompts him.

Lord Hater walks over back to the table, and in one smooth motion swipes all of Peepers papers up. Peepers stutters at the action before yelling out, “Sir those aren't ready for reviewing yet!” He flails, moving to stand to try to grab his dabbles. Hater is tempted to electrocute them to ashes and tell Peepers to just be done with the whole thing. But for now he holds them above his head. 

“I’m banning you from working on these anymore until you've gotten sleep.”  “What but sir!” Peepers whines, figure dropping, “We’re loosing time! Don't you see?!” Peepers eye starts to water and Hater’s heart whines. Oh no, please don't cry.

“Every second we waste is another second Dominator is destroying another planet! Another plant we could be conquering! Another part of the galaxy gone!!” The salty tears leak down Peepers face as he starts to hyperventilate. His chest pulses erratically, pupils shrinking and enlarging drastically as his fingers cut and drag into the marble table in front of him. Through the onyx reflection he can make out himself through his foggy bitter vision, making the panic heighten even more. He’s loosing it. The air is getting thinner, and suddenly he’s sweating. “And no one can stop her!” He’s trembling, loosing more and more air as he wrestles with his words to get them out, “She’s winning! We’re not number one anymore and the galaxy is going to tarnish!” Peepers collapses into his chair, sobbing, and Hater doesn't know what to do but watch. 

He wonders if this is still about conquering planets anymore, or more about Peepers galaxy dying. This isn't his home galaxy, but it is Peepers.

But he supposes the answer doesn't matter since she's still destroying planets, and the goal is the same either way. Stop Dominator. 

Peepers has gone silent again, small tears flowing out of the corner of his pupil. 

Peepers takes a shaky exhale, hugging himself as he trembles again. Heat attacks him at all angles, and Peepers has to rip his helmet off to get cooler air. He sets it on the table besides the large cup of hot cocoa. Looking at it clams him a bit, reminded that Hater may just care about him a little. 

He looks up to Lord Hater, his pupil screaming for Hater to help him. It dances in confusion and desperation. 

Hater places the papers down on the table, but far enough away from Peeper’s hands. 

Awkwardly Hater stands there. At least his commander isn't balling his eye out anymore. 

As if just to despite him Peepers starts to cry again, lids quivering. “That’s it! We’re gonna loose.” Peepers draws his legs up, daring his knees up to his eye as he bawls.

“Peepers stop crying! It’s not helping!” Hater snaps, feeling lost on not knowing what to do and hating himself for not being in control of the situation for once. 

“Oh I’m sorry I’ve actually been trying!” Peepers sobs out, lids narrowing as his pupil darkens with fury. “While you’ve all sat around giving mindless meetings and doing nothing!! All you’ve cared about is trying to get her to date you, and how’s that gone, huh?!” Peepers screeches, eyes continuously blurring as boiling water drenches him. 

In any other situation Hater would have been livid. But for the first time he feels bad. 

Oh no has Wander got to him? 

It’s just Peepers looks so tired and melancholy. Normally he loves it when people cry and scream. He loves seeing people pessimistic and adrift. But with Peepers he feels guilty, and he didn't even really do anything wrong! It was all Dominators fault, and Wander’s fault for not fixing her already! Why does he… oh no, care? He wants to gag, but admitting that to himself makes his chest lighten. 

Peepers is crossing his arms now, glancing off to the side with his knees drawn up as his lids quiver.

Hater scotches his chair closer to Peeper’s, cringing as the sound rakes inside his ears. He has the strangest feeling in his arms. They're tensing, and scratching to reach out for Peepers. But not in his usual wanting to electrocute sort of way.

“You’re right,” saying that aloud to him doesn't fill Hater with dread he expects to feel. “But you're the one who comes up with the plans. You’re the one who gets the watchdogs more together, you're third in command,” Peepers glowers at him through his overcast vision, knowing he's talking about Captain Tim. Hater ignores him. “and yeah you're the smarter one,” Hater bites it out, cringing. Peepers squints in befuddlement. “and I’m the one who blasts stuff and gets people to bow and knock off peoples crowns! And roar and electrocute people and put down flags!” Peepers deadpans, and Hater realizes he got a little offtrack. “But in order for me to be awesome the plans are important. Every time we’ve fallen down the leader board, your plans have gotten us back up. You're the one who makes everything balanced out. And without rest or eating or whatever all that important junk is thinking of great ideas is harder,” Hater takes a deep breath, “The point is you’re the person who always comes up with the greatest ideas, so you need to do all that stuff the most. Putting effort into thinking when you're exhausted won’t do you any good because then those plans,” Hater motions to the pile of papers on the table, “will really be worthless.”

Peepers stares at him, unblinking. His eye waters again, but not high enough to stream out. “Glad to know you appreciate me just for my plans.” 

Hater nods, “Yeah.” 

Peepers deadpans, forcing Hater to think back over his long rambling. Peepers glances away, hurt pinching his iris.

Oh. 

“Oh wait no!” Hater waves his hands, “Well I, gah, I miss my friend!” Hater covers his face, dragging his gloves down his face. “Being evil isn't fun when you're not, right. Besides I know if anyone can take Dominator on it’s us.” 

Doubt and insecurity naw at the back of his neck and he scratches it, mumbling, “So yeah just go to bed and rest until you're back to your usual self or whatever.” 

Peepers softly smiles, wiping at his eye and sniffling, “Thank you Hater, sir.” It comes out much more nasally from the sobbing. 

Hater nods stiffly. Peepers takes a sip out of his hot cocoa to aid his sore throat from the yelling and the cries that ripped up his throat. 

Man the hot chocolate looks really good. The steam wraps around Peepers face, and Hater can smell the chocolate tang from where he’s seated. Hater wishes he had gotten a hot chocolate too, but then Peepers would have known that Hater got a drink for him. 

Hater’s enlarged shiny shimming eyes give him away. 

Peepers lowers the cup from his face, smirking, “Did you change your mind sir?” 

“Hmm?” Haters waits for Peepers to elaborate, not realizing his commander could read him so easily. 

Peepers shakes the large cup out in front of him, having to use both of his hands. “Did you want some?” 

Shamrock licks at his cheekbones. “Shut up Peepers.” Hater mumbles as he rips the hot cocoa out of Peepers hands, swinging it back to take huge gulps. 

Once he lowers the cup the thought crosses his mind that Peepers mouth-or whatever he had- was just where Hater’s was. Green is back, coloring his face in full force. Is it bad that he doesn't feel disgusted by that thought? Oh my grop, did he just kiss Peepers? 

He hurriedly shoves the cup back in Peepers hands. From the weight of it Peepers is thrown back into the chair, hands skipping along the warm cup.

Peepers blinks at him in confusion, and slight irritation. 

He looks down at the cup in puzzlement, and Hater can see gears turning in his brain. With a bit of hesitation he holds eye contact as he takes his next sip. His bottom lid is titled up in wonderment. 

Hater can feel his cheek bones boiling, and Peepers pupil flickers and a bright light shines in it. 

He starts moaning, and Hater can’t look away. “Thank you sir, this is so good.” He gasps out in between sips. 

Burning emerald is eating away at his bones into his marrow now. Stupid Peepers is doing this on purpose he swears. He doesn't even know why he's getting so effected by this, Peepers just really likes hot chocolate, that’s all. 

At least Peepers is back to normal again. 

Peepers takes another sip, moaning in appreciation again as he stares right into Hater’s eyes. “More sir?” Peepers lids twist back up into a smirk as he holds the cup out towards Hater again.

Kind of.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the end didn't get too weird haha. I debated putting it in, and decided to. 
> 
> Feedback fuels me :) 
> 
> I edited this quickly, so please let me know if there are any errors so I can fix them! 
> 
> Tumblr: hatesgreat-bestvillian


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